


i can't face this on my own

by BlackBlood1872



Series: without a sound [3]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: A little comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Episode: e075 The Ben Arnold Show, there is one (1) hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBlood1872/pseuds/BlackBlood1872
Summary: There's a package waiting outside his door, Ben's name written in Sammy's handwriting. Sammy freezes at the sight of it, and Ben feels his stomach drop.["with no place left to go" but if Sammy was around to face the consequences of his actions.]
Relationships: Ben Arnold & Sammy Stevens
Series: without a sound [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738723
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	i can't face this on my own

**Author's Note:**

> I wondered how this event might play out if it was set after the canon events, and now I give you more angst. You're welcome.  
> contains some shippy feels, because that's how i write them, but i won't stop you if you want to read it as platonic.

There's a package sitting in front of his door. Sammy freezes when he sees it and Ben looks between the two, bemused.

"Sammy? What's up? What is that?"

Sammy makes a noise like he's been punched. "Nothing! It's nothing, Ben, don't—don't worry about it." He darts forward, looking more alert than he has all night. Ben watches, growing steadily more alarmed, as Sammy snatches the brown paper wrapped bundle off the floor and hugs it close to his chest. His hands are shaking.

"Sammy?" Ben asks, quietly, walking over slowly like he's approaching a wild animal. Sammy's eyes certainly look a little wild. Ben's gaze drops to the package, and he can see a patch of white through his friend's arms. White, and his name in a familiar handwriting.

"That's addressed to me," he points out inanely. Of course it is. And the person who left it for him seems increasingly desperate to keep it from him.

"It's—it's not important, Ben, just—it's not relevant anymore, you don't need to worry about it." Sammy shuffles backwards, closer to the Ben's door. He readjusts his grip on the package, covering the envelope entirely. "Can we just—go inside and forget about this?"

"I think it's _very_ important, actually," Ben says, and his voice cracks, growing anxiety causing his heart to beat rapidly in his chest. Sammy's fingers dig into the paper wrapping, a crackle crunch that's much too loud for this time of night. What could possibly be in there?

Ben desperately needs to know. He's terrified of the answer.

"It's important," Ben repeats, quieter. He steps closer and Sammy _flinches_. Ben stops just within arm reach. His mind races as he works through the train of logic behind its appearance. "It was important enough to leave it for me. It's—you're hiding it from me now, but you left it for me when you thought—when you knew I'd find it without you. I was meant to find it, after…"

"Ben, can we not do this?" Sammy pleads, but it's frail, no force behind it. He closes his eyes, shoulders bowing inward. He looks smaller, like he has since Ben found him again, but it feels worse now. Like he's finally given up.

Ben reaches out and lays a hand on his arm. Sammy shivers and leans into him, forehead resting on his shoulder.

"Let's go inside," Ben murmurs. Sammy doesn't reply, but he retreats far enough for Ben to unlock his door and then follows him in, eyes on the floor.

They settle on the couch. Ben sits against the arm, facing his friend, while Sammy slumps in place, resolutely looking away. The package remains in his arms. There's a rip in one corner now, and Ben can see a hint of grey fabric. He lets silence settle over them, lets himself pretend, for a moment, that this is just like any other night. A heavy show leading to breakfast in at one of their apartments, comfortable quiet after hours of talking.

This doesn't feel comfortable though. Sammy is stressed, picking at the tape holding the bundle together, shoulders climbing higher as the minutes pass. Ben can barely keep himself still, heart pounding behind his ribs, in his throat, at his temples. It's all he can hear, and he tries to breathe lightly so he can focus on every tiny sound Sammy makes.

Finally, it breaks. Sammy drags in a breath, eyes closing and lips trembling. He relaxes his grip, slowly, and the package settles onto his lap. The envelope is crinkled at the corners, one long crease going diagonally through the center. He picks at the tape securing it there, fingers shaking, and then just holds it for one, endless moment.

And then he hands it to Ben, and his arm trembles under its weight.

 _Hey Ben,_ the letter begins, and it only gets worse from there.

He reads in a daze, cold just under his skin. The neatness of the letters clash against the words they craft, and it's hard to focus, to grasp the message laid out for him.

Phrases stand out, lost in the mess. _I knew you'd try to talk me out of this. Maybe you'll miss me too. This is my choice._

_Goodbye Ben. I love you._

Ben finishes reading and doesn't say anything, _can't_ say anything, jaw locked against the sob building behind his teeth. He refolds the papers and sets them on the coffee table, carefully, as if the slightest misstep will cause everything around him to shatter apart. The silence that fills his apartment hangs thick and heavy. Ben can barely breathe.

"This is a suicide note," he says finally, voice deadly calm over the storm of emotion inside him.

Sammy's quiet for another moment, then sighs softly. "Yeah," he whispers, "it is."

"You were never going to go back to California, were you?"

Another hesitation. Another quiet answer. "No."

"How long have you been planning this?" Sammy doesn't answer, and Ben's fear comes out as anger when he snaps, "How _long_?"

"Do you remember that show in February? When Greg—"

Of course Ben remembers. "Is that when?"

"That was when I knew I would go through with it. It's the only op—"

"The hell it is! We'll—we are going to find a way to get him out that doesn't involve you— _killing yourself!_ " Ben's breath hitches as the prospect finally sets in, and all the anger and terror reaches a peak and—breaks. His voice creaks when he forces himself to speak. "Do you know how much this would have hurt me? If I found this after—after _losing you?_ " His vision wavers as tears collect in his eyes, heart aching and breath coming short. His entire face hurts. His hands are shaking. "If I—if I _found_ this—I—I _can't_ —"

Arms fold around him and Ben collapses against Sammy, clutching desperately at his shirt. He buries his face in his friend's neck, choking on sobs. "You can't—can't just _do this_ —

"I _need_ you, okay? You can't leave me. Not like _that_." He shudders, trembling like a leaf. Sammy rubs his back and it helps as much as it hurts, the thought that he could have lost this, that yesterday could have been the last time he saw Sammy and he didn't even _know_. "…please. Don't ever do this again."

Sammy takes a long moment to respond, restrained by emotion or hesitation, and Ben holds him tighter. Sammy sighs, slumping to rest his cheek on Ben's head. "…I won't," he whispers, and his voice is thin, far too flimsy. Ben isn't sure if it will support this weight. "I promise you, I—I won't try this again. I won't. I won't."

They stay like that, holding each other as tightly as they can, until the morning light bathes the room in gold.


End file.
